PQ 

2635 

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R72 

1915 

MAIN 


THE  WORLD'S  BEST  PLAYS 

BY  CELEBRATED  EUROPEAN  AUTHORS 
BARRETT  H.  CLARK 

C»SNBRAL   EDITOR 


The  Romancers  :  Com- 
dy  in  Three  Acts :  by 
Edmond  Rostfand:  Trans- 
lated by  Barrett  H.  Clark 


Samuel  French :  Publisher 

28-30  West  Thirty-eighth  St. :  New  York 

LONDON 

Samuel  French,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street,  Strand 


copybight,  1915 
By  Samuel  French 


:> 


1. 


07  R% 


EDMOND  ROSTAND 

Edmond  Rostand  was  born  at  Marseilles  in  i868. 

Rostand  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
dramatic  poets  of  modern  times.  "  Les  Romanes- 
ques " — "  The  Romancers  " — was  performed  for 
the  first  time  in  Paris,  at  the  Comedie  Frangaise, 
in  1894,  and  achieved  considerable  success.  Its 
delicacy  and  charm  revealed  the  true  poet,  and  the 
deftness  with  which  the  plot  was  handled  left  little 
doubt  as  to  the  author's  ability  to  construct  an 
interesting  and  moving  drama.  But  not  until  the 
production  of  "  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  "  in  1897  did 
Rostand  become  known  to  the  world  at  large. 
"  L'Aiglon '*  (1900)  was  something  of  a  disap- 
pointment after  the  brilliant  "  Cyrano."  Ten  years 
later  came  "  Chantecler,"  the  poet's  deepest  and  in 
many  ways  most  masterly  play. 


"'  The  Romancers  "  is  best  played  in  the  romantic 
atmosphere  of  the  late  Eighteenth  century;  the 
costumes  should  be  Louis  XVI.  The  stage-direc- 
tions are  sufficiently  detailed. 


383535 


THE  ROMANCERS 


PERSONS  IN  THE  PLAY 

Sylvette 
Percinet 
Straforel 

Bergamin Percinet's  father 

Pasquinot Sylvette's  father 

Blaise A  gardener 

A  Wall  {Not  a  speaking  part) 

Swordsmen,  musicians,  negroes,  torch-bearers, 
a  notary,  four  witnesses,  and  other  supernu- 
meraries. 

The  action  takes  place  anywhere,  provided  the 
costumes  are  ^pretty. 

6 


THE  ROMANCERS 


ACT  I 


The  stage  is  divided  by  art  old  wall,  covered  with 
vines  and  poweE^l  At  the  right,  a  corner  of 
Bergamin's  private  park;  at  the  left,  a  corner 
of  Pasquinot's.  Ofi  each  side  of  the  wall, 
and  against  it,  is  a  rustic  bench. 

As  the  curtain  rises,  Percinet  is  seated  on 
the  top  of  the  wall.  On  his  knee  is  a  book,  out 
of  zvhich  he  is  reading  to  Sylvette,  who  stands 
attentively  listening  on  the  bench  which  is  on 
the  other  side  of  the  wall. 

wSylvette.  Monsieur  Percinet,  how  divinely 
beautiful ! 

Percinet.  Is  it  not?  Listen  to  what  Romeo 
answers:     {Reading) 

**  It  was  the  lark,  the  herald  of  the  morn, 
No  nightingale:  look,  love,  what  envious  streaks 
Do  lace  the  severing  clouds  in  yonder  east. 
Night's  candles  are  burnt  out,  and  jocund  day 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops : 
I  must  begone  " 

Sylvette.     {Interrupts  him,  as  she  listens)     Sh! 
Percinet.     (Listens  a  moment,  then)     No  one ! 
7 


8  THE  ROMANCERS 

And,  Mademoiselle,  you  must  not  take  fright  like  a 
startled  bird.     Hear  the  immortal  lovers: 

''  Juliet.    Yon  light  is  not  *^i*:>  daylight,  I  know  it,  I, 

It  is  some  meteor  that  the  sun  exhales. 

To  be  to  thee  this  night  a  torch-bearer. 

And  light  thee  on  thy  way  to  Mantua: 

Therefore  stay  yet,  thou  need'st  not  to  be  gone. 

Roineo.     Let  me  be  ta'en,  let  me  be  put  to  death ; 
I  am  content,  so  thou  v/ill  have  it  so. 
ril  say,  yon  gray  is  not  the  morning's  eye, 
'Tis  but  the  pale  reflex  of  Cynthia's  brov/ ; 
Nor  that  is  not  the  lark,  v/hose  notes  do  beat 
The  vanity  heaven  so  high  above  our  heads : 
I  have  more  care  to  stay  than  will  to  go : 
Come,  death  and  welcome" 

Sylvette.  No,  he  must  not  say  such  things,  or 
I  shall  cry. 

Percinet.  Then  let  us  stop  and  read  no  further 
until  to-morrow.  We  shall  let  Romeo  live!  {He 
closes  the  hook  and  looks  about  him)  This  charm- 
ing spot  seems  expressly  made,  it  seems  to  rne,  to 
cradle  the  w^ords  of  the  Divine  Will ! 

Sylvette.  The  verses  are  divine,  and  the  soft 
air  here  is  a  divine  accompaniment.  And  see,  these 
green  shades !'  But,  Monsieur  Percinet,  what  makes 
them  divine  to  me  is  the  way  you  read ! 

Percinet.     Flatterer ! 

Sylvette.  {Sighing)  Poor  lovers !  Their  fate 
was  cruel!     {Another  sigh)     I  think 

Percinet.    What  ? 

Sylvette.     Nothing ! 

Percinet.  Something  that  made  you  blush  red 
as  a  rose. 

Sylvette.    Nothing,  I  say. 

Percinet.  Ah,  that's  too  transparent.  I  see  ii 
all:  you  are  thinking  of  our  fathers! 


THE  ROMANCERS 


Sylvette.    Perhaps- 


Percinet.  Of  their  terrible  hatred  for  each 
other. 

Sylvette.  The  thought  often  pains  me  and 
makes  me  cry  when  I  am  alone.  Last  month,  when 
I  came  home  from  the  convent,  my  father  pointed 
out  your  father's  park,  and  said  to  me :  "  My  dear 
child,  you  behold  there  the  domain  of  my  mortal 
enemy,  Bergamin.  Never  cross  the  path  of  those 
two  rascals,  Bergamin  and  his  son  Percinet.  Mark 
well  my  words,  and  obey  me  to  the  letter,  or  I  shall 
cast  you  off  as  an  enemy.  Their  family  has  always 
been  at  bitter  enmity  with  our  own."  And  I 
promised.     But  you  see  how  I  keep  my  word! 

Percinet.  Did  I  not  promise  my  father  to  do 
the  same,  Sylvette?    Yet  I  love  you! 

Sylvette.     Holy  saints! 

Percinet.    I  love  you,  my  dearest ! 

Sylvette.     It's  sinful ! 

Percinet.  Very — but  what  can  we  do?  The 
greater  the  obstacles  to  be  overcome,  the  sweeter 
the  reward.    Sylvette,  kiss  me ! 

Sylvette.  Never!  {She  jumps  down  from  the 
bench  and  runs  off  a  fezv  steps) 

Percinet.     But  you  love  me? 

Sylvette.    What  ? 

Percinet.  My  dear  child:  I,  too,  sometimes 
think  of  us  and  compare  you  and  me  with  those 
other  lovers — of  Verona. 

Sylvette.     But  /  didn't  compare — ! 

Percinet.  You  and  I  are  Juliet  and  Romeo;  I 
love  you  to  despair,  and  I  shall  brave  the  wrath  of 
Pasquinot-Capulet  and  Bergamin-Montague ! 

Sylvette.  (Coming  a  little  nearer  to  the  wall) 
Then  we  love?  But  how.  Monsieur  Percinet,  has 
it  happened  so  soon? 

Percinet.     Love  is  born  we  know  not  how,  be- 


lo  THE  ROMANCERS 

cause  it  must  be  born.  I  often  saw  you  pass  my 
window 

Sylvette.     I  saw  you,  too ! 

Percinet.     And  our  eyes  spoke  in  silence. 

Sylvette.  One  day  I  was  gathering  nuts  in  the 
garden  by  the  wall 

Percinet.  One  day  I  happened  to  be  reading 
Shakespeare.  See  how  everything  conspired  to 
unite  two  hearts ! 

Sylvette.  And  a  little  gust  of  wind  blew  my 
scarf  in  your  direction. 

Percinet.    I  climbed  to  the  wall  to  return  it 

Sylvette.  (Climbing  the  zvall  again)  I  climbed 
too! 

Percinet.  And  since  that  day,  my  dear,  I  have 
waited  at  the  same  hour,  here  by  this  wall;  and 
each  time  my  heart  beat  louder  and  faster,  until  I 
knew  by  your  soft  laugh  that  you  were  near ! 

Sylvette.  Now  since  we  love,  we  must  be 
married. 

Percinet.    I  was  just  thinking  about  that. 

Sylvette.  (Solemnly)  I,  last  of  the  Pasqui- 
nots,  do  solemnly  pledge  myself  to  you,  last  of  the 
Bergamins. 

Percinet.     What  noble  recklessness ! 

Sylvette.    We  shall  be  sung  in  future  ages ! 

Percinet.  Two  tender  children  of  too  hard- 
hearted fathers ! 

Sylvette.  But  who  knows  whether  the  hour  is 
not  at  hand  when  our  father's  hatred  may  end? 

Percinet.    I  doubt  it. 

Sylvette.  I  have  heard  of  stranger  things.  I 
can  think  of  half  a  dozen 

Percinet.    What,  for  instance? 

Sylvette.  Imagine  that  the  reigning  prince 
comes  riding  past  some  day — I  run  to  him  and  kneel, 
and  tell  him  the  story  of  our  love  and  of  our  fathers' 
hatred.     The  prince  asks   to   see   my   father   and 


THE  ROMANCERS  ii 

Bergamin,  and  they  are  reconciled. 

Percinet.  And  your  father  gives  me  your 
hand ! 

Sylvette.  Yes.  Or  else,  you  languish,  the 
doctor  declares  you  cannot  live 

Percinet.    And  asks:     "What  ails  you?" 

Sylvette.  And  you  answer :  "  I  must  have 
Sylvette !  " 

Percinet.  And  his  pride  is  then  forced  to 
bend. 

Sylvette.  Yes.  Or  else :  an  aged  duke,  having 
seen  my  portrait,  falls  in  love  with  me,  sends  a 
'squire  to  sue  for  my  hand,  and  offers  to  make  me  a 
duchess. 

Percinet.     And  you  say,  "  No  !  " 

Sylvette.  He  is  offended,  and  some  dark 
night  when  I  am  in  the  garden,  meditating,  he 
springs  forth  out  of  the  darkness !     I  scream ! 

Percinet.  And  I  lose  not  a  second  in  springing 
over  the  wall,  dagger  in  hand.  I  fight  like  a  tiger, 
I 

Sylvette.  You  lay  low  three  or  four  men. 
Then  my  father  rushes  in  and  takes  me  in  his  arms. 
You  tell  him  who  you  are.  His  heart  softens,  he 
gives  me  to  my  savior.  Your  father  consents,  for 
he  is  proud  of  your  bravery. 

Percinet.  Then  we  live  together  for  years, 
happy  and  content ! 

Sylvette.  This  is  not  at  all  impossible,  is  it? 
/Percinet.     Someone's  coming! 

Sylvette.     (Forgetting  herself)     Kiss  me! 

Percinet.  (Kissing  her)  This  evening,  at 
eight,  then?    As  usual?    You  will  come? 

Sylvette.     No. 

Percinet.    Yes ! 

Sylvette.  (Disappearing  behind  the  zcall) 
Your  father!  (Ferci:set  jumps  quickly  from  the 
iK-^all) 


12  THE  ROMANCERS 


\J^ 


XEnter  Bergamin.) 


Bergamin.  Ah,  ha,  I  find  you  here  again, 
dreaming  in  this  corner  of  the  park! 

Percinet.  Father,  I  love  this  old  corner !  .  I 
adore  this  bench  over  which  the  vines  of  the  wall 
have  so  gracefully  draped  themselves. '  See,  what 
graceful  arabesb[ues  these  festoons  make !  The  air 
is  purer  here. 

Bergamin.     By  the  side  of  this  wall? 

Percinet.     I  love  it!, 

Bergamin.     I  see  nothing  lovable  about  it! 

Sylvette.     (Aside)     He  can't  see  why ! 

Percinet.  But  it  is  charming,  all  covered  v/ith 
ivy  and  creeper.  See  here,  what  honeysuckle ! 
This  hundred-year-old  wall,  with  its  clinging  vines, 
its  constellations  of  flowers,  looking  through  the 
crannies,  kissed  by  the  summer  sun,  makes  the 
bench  a  throne  fit  for  kings ! 

Bergamin.  Nonsense,  you  hare-brained  youth ! 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  this  wall  has  eyes? 

Percinet.  Ah,  what  eyes!  (Turns  to-war'd  the 
wall)  Of  soft  azure,  yet  dazzlingly  blue;  let  but  a 
tear  come  to  dim  your  brightness,  or  a  single  kiss — 

Bergamin.     But  the  wall  hasn't  eyes,  you  idiot! 

Percinet.  See  this  vine,  though!  (He  phicks 
part  of  the  vine  from  the  zvall  and  graciously 
presents  it  to  his  father) 

Sylvette.     (Aside)  How  clever! 

Bergamin.  How  stupid !  But  I  know  now 
what  has  turned  -your  silly  head :  you  come  here  to 
read!  (Sylvette  starts  as  she  hears  this.  Per 
ciNET  also  shows  signs  of  fear  as  his  father  pulls 
the  book  from  the  youth's  pocket)  Plays !  (He 
drops  the  book  in  horror)  Arid  verse!  Verse! 
That's  what  has  turned  your  head.    Now  I  see  why 


THE  ROMANCERS  13 

you  talk  about  eyes  and  honeysuckle.  I  tell  you, 
to  be  useful,  a  wall  doesn't  have  to  be  beautiful.  I 
am  going  to  have  all  this  green  stuff  taken  away, 
and  the  bricks  re-laid  and  the  holes  stopped  up. 
I  want  a  white  wall  and  a  high  one  to  keep  the 
neighbors  from  looking  into  our  park.  I  want  no 
vines  and  honeysuckles.  Along  the  top  Fll  sprinkle 
broken  glass 

Percinet.     Pity ! 

Bergamin.  No  pity!  I  insist  on  it!  Glass — all 
along  the  top  of  the  wall!  (Sylvette  and  Per- 
cinet are  in  despair.  Bergamin  sits  down  on  the 
bench)  And  now,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
(He  rises  and  examines  the  wall)  If  the  wall 
hasn't  eyes,  it  may  possibly  have  ears?  (He  is 
about  to  stand  on  the  bench,  when  Percinet  takes 
fright  and  Sylvette  clings  close  to  her  side  of 
the  wall,  making  herself  as  small  as  she  can, 
Bergamin  decides  not  to  scale  the  wall,  but  motions 
to  his  son  to  do  so)  See  whether  some  curious 
listener —  ? 

Percinet.  (Climbing  to  the  top  and  leaning  over 
so  that  Sylvette  can  hear  him)     Till  to-night! 

Sylvette.  (Giving  him  her  hand,  zvhich  he 
kisses)     ril  come  as  the  clock  is  striking!    I  adore 


vou 


Bergamin.     (To  Percinet)     Well? 

Percinet.  (Jumping  down — to  his  father) 
No  one! 

Bergamin.  (Re-seating  himself)  Well,  then, 
my  boy,  I  should  like  to  see  you  married. 

Sylvette.     (Aside)     Oh! 

Bergamin.    What's  that? 

Percinet.    Nothing. 

Bergamin.    I  thought  I  heard  a  cry? 

Percinet.  (Looking  into  the  air)  Some 
wounded  bird,  perhaps. 

Bergamin.     I  have   given  the   matter  my  un- 


14  THE  ROMANCERS 

divided  attention,  and  have  chosen  a  wife  for 
you.  (Percinet  whistles  and  walks  away)  I  tell 
you,  I  am  in  earnest  and  I  intend  to  force  you,  if 
necessary.  (Percinet  continues  zvhistling)  Will 
you  stop  that  confounded  whistling!/  The  young 
woman  is  rich — she's  a  jewel! 

Percinet.    I  want  none  of  your  jewels ! 

Bergamin.     ril  show  you,  you  young  insolent! 

Percinet.  (Grasping  his  father's  cane,  zvhich  is 
raised  as  if  to  strike  him)  Spring  has  filled  the 
bushes  with  the  songs  of  birds ;  the  brooklets  accom- 
pany the  love-notes  of  wild  birds. 

Bergamin.    Rascal ! 

Percinet.  (Still  holding  the  cane)  The  whole 
world  laughs  and  sings  farewell  to  April.  The 
butterflies 

Bergamin.    Ruffian! 

Percinet.  (As  before)  Wing  their  way  across 
the  meadows,  to  make  love  to  the  adored  flowers ! 
Love 

Bergamin.     Villain ! 

Percinet.  Love  opens  wide  the  heart  of  all 
nature.  And  you  ask  me  to  consent  to  a  marriage 
of  reason ! 

Bergamin.    Of  course  I  do ! 

Percinet.  (Passionately)  No,  no,  no.  Father. 
I  swear  by  this  wall — which  hears  me,  I  hope — 
that  my  marriage  will  be  more  romantic  than  any 
dreamed  of  in  the  most  poetic  of  the  world's  love 
stories!     (He  runs  out) 

Bergamin.  (Pursifing  him)  Ah,  let  me  catch 
you — ! 

Sylvette.  I  can  really  understand  now  why 
Papa  hates  that  odious  old  man! 

(Enter  Pasquinot,  left.) 

Pasquinot.  Well,  Mademoiselle,  what  are  you 
doing  here? 


^^ 


THE  ROMANCERS  15 

Sylvette.     Nothing.  ^i^Taking  the  air. 

Pasquinot.  Alone?  But,  you  silly  girl,  are  you 
not  afraid? 

Sylvette.    Not  in  the  least. 

Pasquinot.  Near  this  wall?  I  forbade  you 
to  come  near  it!  You  see  that  park  over  there? 
That  belongs  to  my  mortal  enemy ! 

Sylvette.     I  know  it,  Father  dear. 

Pasquinot.  iWhy,  here  you  are  exposed  to  any 
insult,  any — if  those  rascals  knew  that  my  daughter 
were  walking  alone  in  this  park — Brr !  It  makes 
me  shiver  to  think  of !  I'm  going  to  have  the  wall 
repaired,  and  erect  a  huge  iron  grill  on  top  of  it. 

Sylvette.  (Aside)  He'll  never  do  it — it  would 
cost  too  much! 

Pasquinot.      Now    go    into    the    house — quick ! 
She  goes  out,  Pasquinot  glowering  at  her) 
"Bergamin.     (Heard  from  the  other  side  of  the 
zvall,  as  he  enters)     Take  this  note  at  once  to  Mon- 
sieur  Straforel. 

Pasquinot.  (Running  to  the  wall  and  climbing 
to  the  top  of  it)     Bergamin !  '      . 

Bergamin.         (Doing      likezmse)         Pasquinot! 
^i^They  em  brace  )  v  ^  a-<^  g 

Pasquinot.     How  are  you?   ■    n  If^-^^^ 

Bergamin.     Pretty  well.  ^^ 

Pasquinot.    How's  your  gout? 

Bergamin.     Better.    And  how  is  your  cold? 

Pasquinot.     Still  troubles  me,  devil  take  it! 

Bergamin.    Well,  the  marriage  is  arranged ! 

Pasquinot.    What  ? 

Bergamin.  I  heard  everything — I  was  hidden 
in  the  bushes.    They  adore  each  other ! 

Pasquinot.     Bravo ! 

Bergamin.  We  must  bring  matters  to  a  head ! 
(He  rubs  his  hands)  Ha,  ha!  Nov/  we  can  do  as 
we  had  planned 

Pasquinot.    Yes,  and  tear  down  the  wall. 


i6  THE  ROMANCERS 

Bergamin.    And  live  together. 

Pasquinot.    Joining  our  properties. 

Bergamin.  By  marrying  our  children.  Bui  i 
wonder  whether  they  would  be  so  anxious  if  they 
knew  we  wished  it?  A  marriage  arranged  before- 
hand is  not  so  tempting  to  two  young  children  so 
romantic  as  ours.  That  is  why  we  kept  our  own 
wishes  a  secret.  I  felt  sure  that  after  they  had  been 
separated — Sylvette  in  the  convent,  Percinet  at 
school — they  would  thrive  on  their  secret  love.  That 
is  how  I  came  to  invent  this  hatred  of  ours.  And 
you  even  doubted  its  success !  Now  all  we  have  to 
do  is  to  say  Yes. 

Pasquinot.  But  how  can  it  be  done?  Re- 
member, Tve  called  you  a  scoundrel,  fool,  idiot — 

Bergamin.     Idiot?     Scoundrel  was  sufficient.  J 

Pasquinot.     Now,  what  pretext — ? 

Bergamin.  Your  daughter  herself  has  given 
me  an  inspiration.  This  evening  they  are  to  meet 
here  at  eight.  Percinet  comes  first.  At  the  mo- 
ment Sylvette  appears,  mysterious  men  in  black  will 
emxcrge  from  the  shadov/s  and  start  to  carry  her  off. 
An  abduction!  She  screams,  then  our  young 
hero  gives  chase,  draws  his  sword — the  ravishers 
pretend  to  flee — I  arrive  on  the  scene,  then  you — 
your  daughter  is  safe  and  sound.  You  bless  the 
couple  and  drop  a  few  appropriate  tears ;  my  heart 
is  softened.    Tableau. 

Pasquinot.     A  stroke  of  genius. 

Bergamin.  (Modestly)  Yes — I  think  it  really 
is.  Look — see  that  man  coming?  It's  Straforel, 
the  bravado  whom  I  wrote  to  a  few  minutes  ago. 
He  is  to  superintend  the  abduction. 

(Straforel,  in  an  elaborate  swordsman's  costume, 
appears  at  the  back  of  Bergamin's  park,  and 
swaggers  down-stage.) 


THE  ROMANCERS:        i\^^'^-    17 

Bergamin.  (Descending  from  the  wall  and  bow- 
ing low  to  Straforel)  Allow  me  to  introduce  you 
to  my  friend  Pasquinot. 

Straforel.  (Bozving)  Monsieur!  (He  raises 
his  head  and  sees  no  Pasquinot) 

Bergamin.  (Pointing  to  Pasquinot  on  the  crest 
of  the  zvnll)  There,  on  the  wall ! — Now,  my  dear 
master,  does  my  plan  meet  with  your  approval  ? 

Straforel.     It  does.     It  is  most  simple, 

Bergamin.  You  must  act  quickly,  you  under- 
stand ? 

Straforel.     And  say  nothing! 

Bergamin.  A  make-believe  abduction  and  stage- 
fight  with  swords. 

Straforel.     I  understand  perfectly. 

Bergamin.  You  must  have  skilful  swordsmen 
— I  can't  have  my  boy  hurt.     He  is  my  only  child ! 

Straforel.    I  will  see  to  that  myself. 

Bergamin.  Good.  In  that  case,  I  shall  fear 
nothing. 

Pasquinot.  (Aside  to  Bergamin)  Ask  him 
the  price? 

Bergamin.  For  an  abduction.  Maestro,  how 
much  do  you  charge? 

Straforel.  That  depends.  Monsieur,  on  the 
kind  you  wish;  we  have  them  at  all  prices.  In  an 
affair  of  this  kind,  however,  nothing  should  be 
spared.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  have  a 
lirst-class  abduction. 

Bergamin.  (Surprised)  Then  you  have  many 
classes  ? 

Straforel.  Indeed  I  have.  I  have  the  ordinary 
vulgar  abduction  in  a  cab,  with  two  men  dressed  in 
black — that's  rarely  used ;  the  daylight  abduction, 
the  midnight  abduction:  the  pompous  abduction  in 
a  court  carriage,  with  powdered  servants — wigs  are 
extra — with  mutes,  negroes,  brigands,  musketeers, 
anything  you  like !    The  abduction  in  a  post-chaise, 


i8  THE  ROMANCERS 

with  two,  three,  four,  five,  horses,  ad  Hb. ;  the  dis- 
creet and  quiet  abduction,  in  a  small  carriage — 
that  one's  rather  luruWious;  the  rollicking  abduc- 
tion, in  which  the  victim  is  carried  away  in  a  sack ; 
the  romantic  abduction  in  a  boat — but  a  lake  is 
necessary ! — the  Venetian  abduction,  in  a  gondola — 
ah,  you  have  no  lagoon !  Moonlight  abduction,  or 
the  abduction  on  a  dark  and  starless  night — ^those 
moonlight  abductions  are  quite  the  style,  though  they 
are  a  little  dear ! — Besides  these,  there  is  the  abduc- 
tion by  torch-light,  with  cries  and  screams,  and 
clash  and  shock  of  arms;  the  brutal  abduction,  the 
polite  abduction;  the  classical  one  with  masks;  the 
gallant  abduction  to  the  accompaniment  of  music; 
but  the  latest,  most  stylish,  gayest  of  all,  is  the 
sedan-chair  abduction ! 

Bergamin.  (Scratchuig  his  head — aside  to 
Pasquinot)     Well,'  what  do  you  think? 

Pasquinot.    Hm,  what  do  you  ? 

Bergamin.  I  think  that  we  should  do  every- 
thing in  the  best  possible  way,  no  expense  spared. 
Let  us  give  our  young  romancers  something  they'll 
not  soon  forget.  Let's  have  it  with  masks,  dark 
mantles,  torches,  music,  and  a  sedan-chair! 

Straforel.  (Taking  notes)  A  first-class,  then, 
with  all  extras. 

Bergamin.     That's  it. 

Straforel.  I  shall  return  soon.  (To  Pasqui- 
not) Remember,  Monsieur,  to  leave  open  the  door 
of  your  park  to-night. 

Bergamin.    Very  well,  it  shall  be  done. 

Straforel.  (Bowing)  My  compliments. 
(Turning  to  go)  One  first-class — with  extras. 
(He  goes  out) 

Pasquinot.  The  honest  man,  he  went,  without 
telling  us  the  price  ! 

Bergamin.  Everything  is  arranged.  Now  we'll 
live  together,  after  demolishing  the  wall. 


THE  ROMANCERS  19 

Pasquinot.  And  in  winter  we'll  have  but  one 
hearth  and  home ! 

Bergamin.  Our  dearest  wishes  are  about  to  be 
realized ! 

Pasquinot.     And  we'll  grow  old  together! 

Bergamin.     Dear  old  Pasquinot! 

Pasquinot.  Dear  old  Bergamin!  {They  em- 
brace. Sylvette  and  Percinet  enter,  from  each 
side  of  the  stage  and,  seeing  their  fathers  embrace) 

Sylvette.    Oh ! 

Bergamin.  {Aside  to  Pasquinot)  Your 
daughter ! 

Percinet.    Oh ! 

Pasquinot.     (Aside  to  Bergamin)     Your  son! 

Bergamin.  {Aside  to  Pasquinot)  We  must 
pretend  to  fight !  ( Their  embrace  is  transformed 
into  a  struggle)     Rascal! 

Pasquinot.    Fool ! 

Sylvette.  {Pulling  her  father's  coat-tails) 
Papa !    ' 

Percinet.  {Doing  the  same  with  his  father) 
Papa!  ' 

Bergamin.    Let  us  be! 

Pasquinot.    He  insulted  me ! 

Bergamin.     He  struck  me  ! 

Pasquinot.     Coward! 

Sylvette.     Papa ! 

Bergamin.     Thief ! 

Percinet.     Papa ! 

Pasquinot.     Bandit ! 

Sylvette.  Papa!!  (Sylvette  and  Percinet 
finally  succeed  in  separating  the  fathers) 

Percinet.  {Dragging  his  father  azvay)  Go  in 
now.  it's  late. 

Bergamin.  {Trying  to  go  to  the  wall  again)  I 
can't  control  myself.  Just  let  me — !  (Percinet 
takes  him.  out) 


20  THE  ROMANCERS 

Pasquinot.  (Also  trying  to  return  to  the  wall) 
ril  kill  him ! 

Sylvette.  (Dragging  Pasquinot  out)  The  air 
is  so  damp!     Think  of  your  rhemnatism !      (They 

go  out)  ... 

(Little  by  little  it  grozvs  dark.  For  a  moment  the 
stage  is  empty.  Then,  in  Pasouinot's  park, 
enter  Stfaforel  and  szvordsmen,  musicians, 
and  torch-bcarrrs.) 

Straforel.  1  see  one  star  already.  The  day  is 
dying.  (He  places  his  men  about  the  stage)  Stay 
there — you  there — and  you  there.  The  hour  is  near. 
You  will  see,  as  the  clock  strikes  eight,  a  figure  in 
white  enter  on  this  side.  Then  I  whistle — (He  looks 
at  the  sky  again )  The  moon  ?  Splendid !  Every 
effect  is  perfect  to-night !  (Examining  the  costumes 
of  his  band)  The  capes  and  mantels  are  excellent. 
Look  a  little  more  dangerous,  over  there!  Now, 
ready?  (A  sedan-chair  is  brought  in)  The  chair 
over  there  in  the  shade.  (Seeing  the  negroes  zvho 
carry  the  chair)  The  negroes  are  good  !  (Speak- 
ing at  a  distance)  Torches,  there,  you  understand 
you  are  not  to  come  until  you  receive  the  signal? 
(The  faint  reflection  of  the  torches  is  seen  at  the 
back  of  the  stage,  through  the  underbrush.  Enter 
the  musicians)  Musicians?  There — at  the  back. 
Now,  a  little  distinction  and  life !  Vary  your  poses 
from  time  to  time.  Stand  straight,  mandolin !  Sit 
down,  alto!  There.  (Severely  to  a  szvordsmnn) 
You,  first  mask,  don't  look  so  harmless — I  want  a 
villainous  slouch  !  Good  !  Now,  instruments,  play 
softly — tune  up  !  Good — tra  la  la  !  (He  puts  on  his 
mask) 

(Percinet  enters  slowly  from  the  other  side  of  the 
stage.     As  he  speaks  the  follozuing  lines,   the 


Oa<eUn    iV 


THE  ROMANCERS  29 

Bergamin.  (Put  out)  Really?  And  do  you 
think  that  if  I  had  wished — ? 

Sylvette.  Now,  now,  now !  I  know  lovers' 
dreams  are  always  realized,  and  that  fathers  who 
are  mortal  enemies  always  end  by  falling  into  each 
other's  arms. 

Pasquinot.    Oh,  let  me  laugh! 

Sylvette.     But  we  proved  it! 

Bergamin.     I  could  say  something 

Sylvette.     What  ? 

Bergamin.     Nothing! 

Sylvette.  (To  Bergamin)  You  seem  changed. 
What  do  you  mean? 

Bergamin.     I  mean 

Pasquinot.  Why,  with  one  word,  we  could — 
(Aside)  I  can't  tell  her!  (He  walks  up-stage  two 
or  three  steps) 

Sylvette.  Well,  if  you  have  nothing  to  say,  why 
not  keep  still? 

Pasquinot.  (Angrily)  Keep  still?  Nothing  to 
say?  Do  you  imagine  that  everything  just  hap- 
pened? How  do  you  think  people  could  come  into 
my  park  through  the  iron  gates? 

Bergamin.  Do  you  imagine  for  one  instant  that 
young  ladies  are  carried  off  like  that  nowadays  ? 

Sylvette.     Do  I — ?    What  are  you  saying? 

Bergamin.  That  will  do!  It  is  high  time  you 
knew  the  truth.  I  tell  you,  the  victory  was  on  the 
side  of  the  old  men ! 

Sylvette.     But 

Pasquinot.  In  old  plays  the  father  was  always 
the  dupe.  Nowadays,  we  do  the  duping!  Would 
either  of  you  have  loved  the  other  if  you  had  been 
told  to  do  so?    No^- 

Sylvette.    Then  perhaps  you  suspected — ? 

Pasquinot.    Of  course  we  did. 

Sylvette.    Our  meetings? 

Bergamin.     I  heard  you  every  time! 


30  THE  ROMANCERS 

Sylvette.    But  the  benches  ? 

Pasquinot.    We  put  them  there  on  purpose. 

Sylvette.    The  duel? 

Bergamin.     a  trick — prepared  beforehand. 

vSylvette.     The  bravadoes? 

Pasquinot.     Actors ! 

Sylvette.  Then  my  abduction — ?  It  was  all  a 
joke! 

Bergamin.  (Searching  in  his  pocket)  Joke? 
Here's  the  bill ! 

Sylvette.  (Snatching  the  bill  from  him)  Give 
it  to  me !  (She  reads)  '*  Straforel,  Confidential 
affairs:  One  abduction,  setting  and  scenery — for 
purposes  of  bringing  about  a  marriage — "  Oh ! 
"  Eight  assistants  at  five  francs  a  head ;  eight 
masks " 

Bergamin.  (To  Pasquinot)  I  think  we  told 
her  too  soon ! 

Sylvette.  (Continuing)  "  One  sedan-chair, 
with  porters;  latest  style,  with  red  trimmings — '' 
(Laughing,  she  throws  the  bill  on  the  table) 

Pasquinot.    Then  she  isn't  angry? 

Sylvette.  (Graciously)  A  charming  idea! 
But,  truly.  Monsieur  Bergamin,  do  you  think  I  love 
Percinet  merely  because  of  your  trick  ? 

Pasquinot.    She  takes  it  very  well. 

Bergamin.  (To  Sylvette)  You're  not  of- 
fended ? 

Pasquinot.    Are  you  going  to  tell  Percinet? 

Sylvette.     Oh,  no.     Men  are  so  stupid! 

Bergamin.  Very  sensible.  But  I  had  an  idea — 
(Taking  out  his  watch)  Now  we  must  see  about 
the  contract.  (Offering  his  hand  to  Sylvette) 
We  are  vStill  good  friends? 

Sylvette.     Of  course ! 

Bergamin.  (Turning  about  once  more  before  he 
goes  out)     You  don't  blame  me,  do  you? 

Sylvette.     (Sweetly)     Not  in  the  least !     (Ber- 


THE  ROMANCERS  31 

GAMIN  and  Pasquinot  go  out.  As  they  leave, 
Sylvette  hursts  into  a  rage)  How  I  hate  that 
Monsieur  Bergamln ! 

{Enter  Percinet.) 

Percinet.  Still  here  ?  Ah,  I  see ;  you  did  not 
want  to  leave  this  sacred  spot 

Sylvette.  {Sitting  on  the  bench  to  the  left) 
Outrageous ! 

Percinet.  There  is  where  you  saw  me,  like 
Amadis,  put  to  flight  thirty  of  the  ruffians ! 

Sylvette.    No:  ten! 

Percinet.  (Going  to  her)  Dearest,  what  is  the 
matter?  Are  you  troubled?  Your  eyes  are  not 
so  bright  as  they  were.  I  know !  This  marvelous 
place  makes  you  sad  sometimes.  Are  you  sad  be- 
cause our  balcony — our  Verona  balcony — is  des- 
troyed ? 

Sylvette.    (Impatiently)    Oh,  dear! 

Percinet.  But  does  not  the  wall  still  exist  in 
our  memories  ?    That  wall  which  cradled  our  love — 

Sylvette.     (Aside)     Will  he  never  end! 

Percinet.  You  remember  not  long  ago,  you  said 
our  story  should  be  put  into  a  poem? 

Sylvette.    Yes  ? 

Percinet.  Well,  I  have  occasionally  written 
verses. 

Sylvette.     Are  you  going  to  write  our  story? 

Percinet.  Listen  to  this ;  I  thought  it  out  when 
I  was  walking.  "  The  Fathers  who  are  Mortal 
Enemies."     First  canto 

Sylvette.     Oh ! 

Percinet.     (Ready  to  declaim)    Er 

Sylvette.     Oh ! 

Percinet.     What  is  the  matter? 

Sylvette.  I  imagine  I  am  too  happy — Pm 
nervous — I  don't  feel  well.     (She  bursts  into  tears) 


32  THE  ROMANCERS 

ril  be  well  in  a  moment.     Let  me  be!     {She  turns 
her  back  and  hides  her  face  in  a  handkerchief) 

Percinet.  (Surprised)  Til  leave  you  for  a 
moment.  (Aside)  On  a  day  like  this,  it's  only  too 
natural — (He  goes  to  the  right,  sees  the  bill  on  the 
table,  takes  a  pencil  from  his  pocket,  and  sits  down) 
ril  just  jot  down  those  lines.  (He  picks  up  the  bill, 
and  starts  to  write;  notices  the  zvriting  and  reads 
aloud)  ;  "  1,  Straforel,  having  pretended  to  be  killed 
by  a  sword-thrust  from  a  foolish  young  blade, 
hereby  render  account  for  torn  clothes  and  wounded 
pride:  forty  francs."  (Smiling)  What  is  it?  (He 
continues  reading  to  himself,  and  his  smile  dies 
away) 

Sylvette.  (Wiping  her  eyes)  He  would  fall 
from  the  clouds  if  he  knew !     I  must  be  careful ! 

Percinet.     (Rising)     Well,  well,  well ! 

Sylvette.     (Going  toward  him)     What  is  it? 

Percinet.  (Hiding  the  bill)  Nothing.  (Aside) 
Now  I  see  why  the  body  was  never  found! 

'^YLVETTE.  (Turning  around  to  show  Percinet 
her  dress)  You've  said  nothing  about  my  dress 
to-day  ? 

Percinet.  (Preoccupied)  Blue  is  not  becom- 
ing.    I  always  prefer  you  in  pink. 

Sylvette.  (Aside)  What  is  the  matter?  Can 
he  have  found  out?  (She  looks  tozvard  the  table) 
The  bill?     (She  runs  to  the  table) 

Percinet.    What  are  you  looking  for? 

Sylvette.  Nothing. — Now  let  me  hear  your 
poem. 

Percinet.     No. 

Sylvette.    Please  1 

Percinet.     No. 

Sylvette.    But  I  want  to  hear  it. 

Percinet.    The  verses  are  not  good. 

Sylvette.     Oh!      (Aside)     I  think  he  knows! 

Percinet.     (Aside)    I  think  she  knows ! 


THE  ROMANCERS  33 

Both.  {Each  to  the  other)  You  know!? 
(After  a  pause,  they  laugh)     Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Percinet.    Isn't  it  funny? 

Sylvette.    Very. 

Percinet.  We  were  made  to  play  a  farce — our 
fathers  were  the  best  of  friends  all  the  time ! 

Sylvette.    Good  neighbors. 

Percinet.     Til  warrant  they  are  cousins,  too! 

Sylvette.     (Bozving)     I  am  about  to  marry  my 


cousm 


Percinet.     My  cousin! 

Sylvette.    How  nice  and  respectable! 

Percinet.    Classic ! 

Sylvette.  Of  course,  I  had  dreamed  of  a  mar- 
riage more — but  it  is  comforting  to  know  that  our 
love  coincides  with  our — duty ! 

Percinet.  And  the  material  interests  of  our 
fathers. 

Sylvette.     An  excellent  marriage,   in  short:   a 
marriage  of  convenience !     And  our  poor  idyl ! 
*    Percinet.     Gone. 

Sylvette.  Gone !  So  Fm  the  good  little  girl  of 
the  family!  '* 

Percinet.  And  I  the  obedient  little  son!  But 
it  was  only  as  Romeo  that  I  appealed  to  you ! 

Sylvette.    Well,  you  are  no  longer  that ! 

Percinet.    And  do  you  think  you  are  Juliet? 

Sylvette.     Now  you're  bitter. 

Percinet.    And  you  cynical. 

Sylvette.  If  vou  were  ridiculous^  is  it  my 
fault? 

Percinet.    I  at  least  had  a  partner ! 

Sylvette.  I,  too !  Poor  Blue  Bird,  you  are 
beautifully  plucked ! 

Percinet.  (Biterly)  A  pre-arranged  abduc- 
tion! 

Sylvette.     Farce,  all  of  it ! 

Percinet.     And  I  your  savior!     All  our  poetry 


34  THE  ROMANCERS 

was  bought  and  paid  for.  Our  beautiful  bubble  is 
now  a  tiny  fleck  of  soap.  Farewell,  Shakespearean 
lovers — we  have  nothing  in  common  with  you ! 

Sylvette.     Nothing ! 

Percinet.  In  place  of  a  divine  drama  we  played 
an  infamous  parody. 

Sylvette.     Our  nighiingale  was  a  sparrow! 

Percinet.  And  the  immortal  wall  a  punch-and- 
iudy  theater.  We  were  the  puppets,  worked  by  our 
fathers. 

Sylvette.  But  how  much  more  ridiculous  we 
should  be  if  we  loved  each  other  less  than  we  do ! 

Percinet.    We  must  now  love  more  than  ever. 

Sylvette.     But  we  do — we  adore 

Percinet.    The  word  is  not  a  bit  too  strong. 

Sylvette.  Love  can  console  us.  Can  it  not,  ni}- 
treasure  ? 

Percinet.     Certainly,  my  jewel. 

Sylvette.     Good-bye  then,  .my  dearest. 

Percinet.     Good-bye,  my  darling. 

Sylvette.     I  shall  dream  of  you,  my  heart.  ^ 

Percinet.    And  I  of  you.  ; 

Sylvette.     Good-night.     {She  goes  out) 

Percinei  .    So  this  is  how  I  have  been  treated  ! — 
But  who  is  this?    See  the  long  moustaches — I  don't ; 
know  him 

(Straforel  enters  and  zvalks  majestically  to'rx'ard 
Percinet.) 

Straforel.  (With  a  profound  how)  I  have 
come  to  collect  a  small  bill. 

Percinet.    Are  you  an  upholsterer? 

Straforel.  Run  along,  young  man,  and  tell  your 
papa  I  am  waiting  for  him. 

Percinet.     What  is  your  name? 

Straforel.     My  name  is  Straforel. 


THE  ROMANCERS  35 

Percinet.  (With  a  start)  He?!  This  is  too 
much ! 

StraforeLw  (Smiling)  Then  you  know,  young 
man? 

Percinet.  (Thro'wing  the  hill  in  Straforel's 
face)     Wretch!     It  was  you! 

Straforel.     It  was,  Per  Bacco ! 

Percinet.     I  have  you  at  last. 

Straforel.  The  people  you  kill,  you  see,  are  in 
the  best  of  health. 

Percinet.  (Drawing  his  sword  and  making  a 
pass  at  Straforel)     You  will  see! 

Straforel.  (Parrying  with  his  arm,  like  a  fenc- 
ing-master giving  a  lesson)  Hand  high!  Foot 
out !  Monsieur,  at  your  age,  you  should  know  better 
than  that!  (He  takes  the  szvord  from  Percinet 
with  his  naked  hand,  and  returns  it  as  he  bows) 
What,  are  you  stopping  your  fencing-lesson  so  soon? 

Percinet.  (Exasperated,  as  he  takes  back  the 
sword)  Fm  going  away.  Here  I  am  treated  like 
a  child.  I  shall  have  my  revenge.  I  am  going  to 
seek  my  romance — true  romance :  love-aflfairs,  duels, 
and — Ah,  Don  Juan,  I  will  scandalize  your  ghost! 
I  will  elope  with  actresses !  (He  dashes  out, 
brandishing  his  szvord) 

Straforel.  Very  well,  but  who  is  going  to  pay 
me?  (Looking  in  the  distance)  Stop  there! 
Here's  someone  else.--  ^^-^V^^*^^ 

(Enter  Bergamin  and  Pasquinot,  their  hair  and 
clothes  ruffled,  as  if  they  had  been  fighting.) 

Pasquinot.  (Readjusting  his  clothes  and  hold- 
ing Bergamin's  zvig)     Flere's  your  wig! 

Bergamin.     And  here's  yours! 

Pasquinot.    After  this,  you  can't  imagine  I'll — ? 

Bergamin.  I  would  no  more  live  with  you  now 
than 


36  THE  ROMANCERS 


(Enter  Sylvette.) 

Pasquinot.  My  daughter! — Say  nothing  about 
this! 

Sylvette.  (Throwing    her    arms    about    her 

father's  neck)  Papa,  I  can't  marry  Percinet! 

(Enter  the  Notary  and  four  witnesses.) 

Bergamin.     The  witnesses  !  v  The  devil ! 
Witnesses.    What — ? 

Straforel.  (In  the  midst  of  the  tumult)  My 
bill !     Who  is  going  to  pay  me  ?     Ninety  pistoles ! 

(Enter  the  Guests  and  three  Fiddlers,  who  play,) 

Bergamin.  What's  all  this?  The  guests? 
Music? 

(The  Fiddlers  continue  their  minuet.) 

Straforel.     (To  Bergamin)     Well? 

Bergamin.     See  Pasquinot. 

Straforel.  (Reading)  "  For  the  purpose  of 
bringing  about  a  marriage " 

Bergamin.  Well,  there  is  to  be  no  marriage! 
Therefore  I  owe  you  nothing! 

(Enter  Blaise.) 

Straforel.     (To  Pasquinot)    But,  Monsieur — 

Pasquinot.  What?  Pay  you  now  that  it  is 
broken  off! 

Bergamin.  (To  whom  Blaise  has  just  whis- 
pered)    My  son — run  away? 

Sylvette.    Run  away? 

Straforel.    Well!    Well! 


THE  ROMANCERS  37 

Bergamin.  Quick,  follow  him!  {He  runs  out, 
followed  by  the  Notary  and  the  witnesses), 

Sylvette.    Gone ! 

Straforel.  (Coining  down-stage)  Why  can't  I 
straighten  all  this  out? 

Sylvette.  This  is  too  much !  (She  goes  out,  fol- 
lowed by  Pasquinot) 

Straforel.  Straforel,  my  son,  if  you  want  your 
ninety  pistoles,  you  must  patch  up  this  marriage! 
(He  goes  out.  The  three  Fiddlers,  left  alone,  con- 
tinue their  minuet,  as  the  curtain  falls) 

Curtain 

ACT  III 

Scene  :  The  scene  is  the  same  except  that  the  wall 
is  being  rebuilt.  Bricks  and  sacks  of  plaster 
lie  about. 

As  the  curtain  rises,  the  Mason  is  seen  at 
zvork  with  his  trozvel.  His  back  is  turned  to 
the  audience,  Bergamin  and  Pasquinot,  each 
on  his  own  side  of  the  zvall,  zvatch  the  progress 
of  the  work.) 

The  Mason.      (Singing  at  his  work)     Tra  la 

la 

Bergamin.     These  masons  are  so  slow! 
Pasquinot.     Good ! 

Bergamin.     How  he  slaps  the  mortar! 
Pasquinot.     There  goes  another  brick ! 

(The  Mason  sings  a  number  of  trills.) 

Pasquinot.     Sings  well,  but  works  very  slowly! 


38  THE  ROMANCERS 

By  to-morrow  the  wall  will  be  at  least  two  feet 
high! 

Bergamin.     Fm  impatient  to  see  it  higher! 

Pasquinot.     What  is  that  you  say,   Monsieur? 

Bergamin.  I  was  not  addressing  you.  (A 
pause)     What  do  you  do  evenings  after  dinner? 

Pasquinot.     Nothing — and  you? 

Bergamin.  Nothing.  {Another  pause.  They 
bozv  and  walk  about  again) 

Pasquinot.  (Stopping)  Any  news  from  your 
son? 

Bergamin.     No — he  is  still  away. 

Pasquinot.  He  will  return  soon :  his  money  will 
surely  give  out. 

Bergamin.  Thank  you.  (They  bozv  again,  and 
zvalk) 

Pasquinot.  Now  that  the  wall  is  being  built 
again,  Monsieur,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  you  from 
time  to  time. 

Bergamin.  Thank  you.  Perhaps  I  shall  come. 
(They  bozv) 

Pasquinot.    Tell  me,  now,  will  you  play  piquet t 

Bergamin.     I  beg  your  pardon — I  don't  know — 

Pasquinot.     I  invite  you ! 

Bergamin.    To  tell  the  truth,  I  prefer  besigue 

Pasquinot.     Then  come  at  once. 

Bergamin.  (Follozving  Pasquinot,  zvho  goes 
out)  You  owe  me  ten  sous  from  the  last  time. 
(Turning  round)     Work  hard,  mason! 

The  Mason.    Tra  la  la  la  la! 

Pasquinot.    Beautiful  voice !     (They  disappear) 


■^ 


{When  they  are  gone,  the  Mason  turns  round,  and 


\,- 


takes,  off  his  hat:  he  is  Straforel.) 


Stralforel.  Now  for  the  work  of  reconstruc- 
tion! (He  sits  dozvn  on  the  row  or  tzvo  of  bricks) 
The  young  man  is  still  off  on  his  quest  for  adventure 


THE  ROMANCERS  39 

and  romance.  Life  must  be  giving  him  a  splendid 
bath  of  disillusion.  I  can  see  him  as  he  returns, 
his  tail  between  his  legs.  Now  I  am  working  on 
Sylvette — :she,  too,  will  soon  be  cured. ^-^  (He  takes 
a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  puts  it  in  the  hollow 
of  a  tree-trunk.  Sylvette  appears  at  the  hack) 
It's  she !     Now  to  work  ! 

Sylvette.  {Looking  anxiously  about)  Not  a 
soul.  {She  lays  her  imislin  scarf  on  the  bench  to 
the  left)  Will  the  letter  be  there  to-day  as  usual? 
{She  goes  toward  the  tree)  Every  day  some  gal- 
lant has  left  one  for  me.  {She  thrusts  her  hand 
into  the  hollow)  Ah,  here  is  my  mail!  {She  takes 
the  letter,  opens  it  and  reads)  "  Sylvette,  heart  of 
marble,  this  is  the  last  letter  you  will  find  in  this 
tree.  Why  have  you  not  answered  me  ? "  Ah, 
what  style  !  "  The  love  that  gnaws  at  my  vitals !  " 
Monsieur  Percinet  has  gone  forth  into  the  great 
world,  and  he  is  right.  I  shall  do  as  he  has  done. 
How  can  I  possibly  stay  here  and  die  of  ennui! 
Now  let  him  come,  I  am  ready  to  fly  w^ith  him !  I 
almost  love  him  already ! 

Straforel.  {Rising  from  his  work,  and  in  a 
voice  of  thunder)     Here  am  I ! 

Sylvette.  {Screaming)  Help!  Percinet! 
Man,  not  another  step ! 

Straforel.  {Gallantly)  Why  this  hostile  at- 
titude ?  I  am  the  man  whose  letters  you  love,  I  am 
he  whose  words  have  had  the  honor  of  pleasing 
you,  and  upon  whose  love  you  just  called.  Come, 
fly  with  me ! 

Sylvette.      {Not  knozving  what  to  do)     Man! 

Straforel.  You  think  I  am  a  mason?  Charm- 
ing !  Know,  then,  that  I  am  the  Marquis  D'Astafior- 
quercita.  My  heart  is  languishing  for  you,  I  seek 
to  color  my  drab  existence  with  a  few  pigments  from 
your  own.  I  must  travel — but  with  you.  That  is 
why  I  have  penetrated  into  your  garden,  disguised 


40  THE  ROMANCERS 

as  a  mason !  {He  throzvs  off  his  workman's  clothes 
and  hat,  and  appears  in  a  dazzling  costume.  His 
ivig  is  powdered  and  his  moustache  bristles) 

Sylvette.     Monsieur ! 

Straforel.  I  learned  your  story  from  a  man 
named  Straforel.  I  felt  at  once  a  mad,  unreason- 
ing love  for  the  victim  of  that  unfortunate  affair. 

Sylvette.     Marquis ! 

Straforel.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me.  That  fel- 
low who  played  the  trick  on  you — I  killed  him ! 

Sylvette.    Killed  him! 

Straforel.    With  a  single  blow ! 

Sylvette.     Monsieur ! 

Straforel.  I  understand  you,  you  who  have 
never  been  understood.  You  w^ant  romance,  do  you 
riot?    Romance  at  any  price? 

Sylvette.     But,  Marquis 

Straforel.     To-night  we  elope! 

Sylvette.     Monsieur ! 

Straforel.     We  shall  go  away,  never  to  return. 

Sylvette.     Monsieur ! 

Straforel.  My  dream  is  realized  You  con- 
sent! To-night!  If  your  father  objects,  so  much 
the  w^orse  for  him! 

Sylvette.     Monsieur ! 

Straforel.  Let  them  follow  us — I  know  how 
to  deal  with  pursuers.  In  some  far  land,  at  last, 
we  shall  live  happily  in  a  little  cottage ! 

Sylvette.    But  I 

Straforel.  For  I  am  poor.  I  have  nothing. 
We  shall  live  on  bread  soaked  in  sweet  tears! 

Sylvette.    But,  I  tell  you 

Straforel.  We  shall  thrive  on  misfortune — 
with  you  I  shan't  care  for  anything  else.  A  tent, 
perhaps 

Sylvette.    A  tent? 

Straforel.    Of  nothing  at  all — just  the  stars ! 

Sylvette.    Oh,  I 


THE  ROMANCERS  41 

Straforel.  Why,  you're  trembling — possibly 
you  don't  want  to  go  so  far  away?  Then  we  shall 
hide  somewhere 

Sylvette.     But,  Monsieur,  you  are  mistaken! 

Straforel.    Let  people  say  what  they  will ! 

Sylvette.     Good  Heavens ! 

Straforel.  I  shall  spend  every  moment  of  my 
time  telling  you  how  I  love  you ! 

Sylvette.     Monsieur 

Straforel.  Ours  shall  be  a  long  life  of  poetry. 
And  I  shall  be  furiously  jealous ! 

Sylvette.     Monsieur 

Straforel.     Are  you  afraid  now? 

Sylvette.     Heavens,  what  a  lesson  for  me! 

Straforel.  Ha,  now  you  look  like  a  little  board- 
ing-school miss.  Tell  me,  shall  v/e  fly  together,  or 
shall  I  go  alone? 

Sylvette.     Monsieur 

Straforel.  I  understand.  I  see  you  are  strong : 
we  shall  go  together.  I  shall  throw  you  across  my 
saddle.  No  sedan-chair — they  are  used  only  in 
make-believe  abductions  !  I  return  soon  !  {He  goes 
upstage) 

Sylvette.     Monsieur,  let  me  tell  you 

Straforel.  I  must  get  my  horse  and  my 
mantle ! 

Sylvette.      {Deeply  distressed)      Monsieur!! 

Straforel.  {With  a  sweeping  gesture)  We 
shall  travel  from  land  to  land.  My  dream  at  last. 
I  shall  return  and  take  you  av/ay,  never  to  return ! 

Sylvette.     {Gasping)     Never  to  return! 

Straforel.  You  shall  live  by  the  side  of  your 
adored  one,  by  the  side  of  him  v/ho  loved  you  before 
he  set  eyes  on  you.  {As  he  is  about  to  leave,  she 
falls  onto  the  bench,  and  he  says  aside)  It's  now 
time  for  you,  Percinet !     {He  goes  out) 

Sylvette.  {Opening  her  eyes  after  a  moment) 
Monsieur  le  marquis — No,  not  across  the  saddle, 


42  THE  ROMANCERS 

please.  I  couldn't  do  that!  Please,  please  let  me 
stay  home.  I  am  a  little  boarding-school  miss ! 
Why — he's  gone!  Marquis!  Heavens,  what  an 
awful  dream!  (Another  pause,  then  she  rises) 
Romance?  Was  it  not  romance  that  you  ci>aved 
not  so  long  ago  ?  It  has  come,  and  are  you  afraid  ? 
Love,  stars,  a  cottage.  Yes,  I  did  want  it — but  only 
a  little — like  seasoning  in  a  stew !  This  is  too  much 
— I  couldn't  stand  it.  (The  sun  is  setting.  Sylvette 
takes  lip  her  scarf,  which  she  had  left  on  the  bench, 
and  puts  it  over  her  head)    Who  knows  whether — ? 

(Percinet  appears.  He  is  in  rags,  and  his  arm 
is  in  a  sling.  He  looks  ill,  and  can  scarcely 
walk.) 

Percinet.  (Not  seeing  Sylvette)  I  have  had 
nothing  to  eat  since  yesterday — I  can  hardly  walk. 
Fm  not  proud  now !  I  want  no  more  adventures. 
(He  sits  down  on  the  wall.  His  hat  falls  frofu  his 
eyes,  and  reveals  his^  identity.  Sylvette  sees 
him) 

Sylvette.  You?!  (He  rises,  and  stands  looking 
at  her)  What  has  happened  to  you?  Can  it 
be—? 

Percinet.     (Piteottsly)     It  can! 

Sylvette.      (Wringing  her  hands)      Heavens! 

Percinet.  I  resemble  somewhat  the  prodigal 
.son,  do  I  not?     (He  totters) 

Sylvette.    You  can't  stand  up ! 

Percinet.    I  am  so  tired. 

Sylvette.  (Looking  at  his  arm — zvith  a  cry) 
Wounded ! 

Percinet.     Can  you  pity  the  ungrateful? 

Sylvette.  (Severely)  Only  fathers  kill  fatted 
calves.     Still,  that  wounded  arm? 

Percinet.    Oh,  I  assure  you  it's  not  serious. 

Sylvette.    But  what  have  you  been  doing,  Mon- 


THE  ROMANCERS  21 

stage  becomes  darker,  until  at  the   end,  it  is 
night. ) 

Percinet.  My  father  is  calmer  now.  The 
day  is  dying,  and  the  intoxicating  odor  of  the  elders 
is  wafted  to  me ;  the  flowers  close  their  petals  in  the 
gray  of  the  evening — '■ — 

Straforel.      {Aside    to    the    violins)      Music! 

{The  musicians  play  softly  until  the  end  of  the  act) 

Percinet.  I  tremble  like  a  reed.  She  is  com- 
ing! 

Straforel.     {To  the  musicians)     Amoroso! 

Percinet.  My  first  evening  meeting — I  can 
scarcely  stand !  The  evening  breeze  sounds  like  the 
fluttering  of  her  dress.  Now  I  can't  see  the 
flowers,  but  I  can  smell  them.  Ah,  this  great  tree, 
with  a  star  above  it — Music?  Who — ?  {A  pause) 
Night  has  come.  {After  anclher  pcnse,  a  clock 
strikes  eight  in  the  distance.  Sylvette  appears  at 
the  back  of  her  park) 

Sylvette.  The  hour  has  struoJc.  He  must  be 
waiting. 


{A  whistle  is  heard.  STRAgPffiL  rises  in  front  of 
Sylvette,  and  torch-oearers  appear  in  the 
background.  Sylvette  screams.  The  swords- 
men seize  and  put  her  into  the  sedan-chair.) 

Sylvette.     Help !     Help ! 

Percinet.    Great  Heavens ! 

Sylvette.     Percinet,  they  are  carrying  me  off! 

Percinet.  {Leaping  to  the  zvall)  I  come! 
{When  he  reaches  the  top  of  the  wall,  he  draws  his 
szvord,  jumps  down  on  the  other  side,  and  engages 
four  or  five  szvordsmen  in  combat.  They  flee  be- 
fore him)     There,  and  there,  and  there! 


22  THE  ROMANCERS 

Straforel.      {To  the  musicians)     Tremolos 
{The  violins  now  play  a  dramatic  tremolo.) 

^Straforel.  Per  Bacco,  he's  the  devil,  that  child! 
(Percinet  now  engages  Straforel  in  a  duel. 
Straforel,  after  a  few  thrusts,  puts  his  hand  to  his 
breast)     I — Fm  mortally  wounded!     {He  falls) 

Percinet.  {Running  to  Syta^ette,  who  sits  in 
the  sedan-chair)      Sylvettc !      [He   kneels   to   her) 

Sylvette.     My  savior  1  u,«.A  -   ^ 

Pasquinot.  {Entering)  ^^ '  Bergamin's  son! 
Your  savior  ?    Your  savior  ?    I  give  you  to  him  ! 

Sylvette  a;/ d  Percinet.     M€avens  ! 

(Bergamin  now  appears  on  his  side  of  the  wall.) 

Pasquinot.  {To  Bergamin,  zvho  is  seen  on  top 
of  the  wall)  Bergamin,  your  son  is  a  hero!  Let 
us  forget  our  quarrels,  and  make  these  children 
happy ! 

Bergamin.     {Solernnly)     I  hate  you  no  more! 

Percinet.  Sylvette,  don't  speak  loud:  I  know  I 
am  dreaming.     But  don't  wake  me ! 

Bergamin.  Our  hatred  is  ended  in  the  marriage 
of  our  dear  ones.  {Indicating  the  wall)  Hence- 
forth let  there  be  no  Pyrenees! 

Percinet.  Who  would  have  believed  that  my 
father  could  change  so! 

Sylvette.  I  told  you  everything  would  turn  out 
happily  !s  {While  the  lovers  go  up-stage  with 
Pasquinot,  Straforel  rises  and  hands  a  folded 
paper  to  Bergamin) 

Bergamin.  {Aside)  What  is  it?  This  paper — 
your  signature?    What  is  it,  if  you  please? 

Straforel.  {Bozving)  Monsieur,  it's  my  bill! 
{He  falls  dozvn  again) 


\    ^WM.    vw^ 


^"""^^^  u^^K^r^w--^^ 


(>rHN 


THE  ROMANCERS  2Z 


Scene:  The  same,  except  that  the  wall  has  disap- 
peared. The  benches  zvhich  zvere  formerly 
against  it  are  removed  to  the  extreme  right  and 
left.  There  are  a  few  extra  pots  of  fiozvers 
and  tzvo  or  three  plaster  statues.  To  the  right 
is  a  small  garden  table,  with  chairs  about  it. 

As  the  curtain  rises,  Pasouinot  is  sitting  on 
the  bench  to  the  left,  reading  a  paper.  Blaise 
is  at  the  back,  busy  vAth  his  rake. 

Blaise.  So  the  notary  comes  to-night,  Monsieur 
Pasquinot?  It  is  pleasant,  now  that  the  wall  is 
down,  and  you  living  together  this  past  month.  It 
was  high  time,  Fm  thinking.  Th?  little  lovers  must 
be  happy! 

Pasquinot.  (Raising  his  head  and  looking 
about)     So  you  like  it  without  the  v/all,  Blaise? 

Blaise.     The  garden  is  superb ! 

Pasquinot.  Yes,  my  property  has  increased 
a  hundred  per  cent !  (Poking  a  tuft  of  grass  with 
his  foot)  Have  you  watered  the  grass?  (Furi- 
ously) You  have  no  business  doing  that  during 
the  day ! 

Blaise.     But  Monsieur  Bergamin  told  me  to ! 

Pasquinot.  Ah,  I  see !  He  seems  to  think  that 
the  more  grass  is  w^atered  the  better  it  becomes. 
Well,  take  those  plants  out  of  the  green-house.  (As 
Blaise  begins  arranging  plants  zvhich  he  gets  from 
the  green-house — just  off-stage — enter  Bergamin 
at  the  back) 

Bergamin,  (Watering  some  fiozvers  from  a 
large  zvatering  'can)  Dear  me,  these  plants  never 
get  enough  water!  (To  a  tree)  Hey  there,  old 
man,  you  never  get  enough  to  drink,  do  you? 
There's  for  you  !     { Laying  dozvn  the  zvatering -can, 


24  THE  ROMANCERS 

he  looks  about  him  zuith  satisfaction)  Yes,  it  is 
better  now.  Very  pretty — those  statues  there  are  a 
decided  improvement.  (Catching  sight  of  Pasqui- 
not)  How  are  you?  (No  anszver)  How  are 
vou?  How  are  you?  (  Pasquinot  raises  his  head) 
Well? 

Pasquinot.  My  friend,  why  ask  that?  We  see 
each  other  all  the  time ! 

Bergamin.  Oh,  very  well  (Seeing  Blaise 
arranging  the  plants)  \  Will  you  take  those  plants^ 
back?!  (Blaise,  not  knowing  zvhat  to  do,  takes 
them  hack  immediately.  Pasquinot  raises  his 
eyes,  shrugs  his  shoulders,  and  then  resumes  his 
reading.  Bergamin  zvalks  back  and  forth,  and 
finally  sits  dozvn  near  Pasquinot.  There  is  a 
pause)     I  used  to  come  here  every  day,  in  silence — 

Pasquinot.  (Laying  aside  his  paper)  I,  too — 
it  was  most  amusing ! 

Bergamin.     And  our  secret ! 

Pasquinot.     The  very  danger  was  amusing. 

Bergamin.  And  the  things  we  had  to  say  of 
each  other — ! 

Pasquinot.    Very  amusing. — Bergamin  ? 

Bergamin.    Pasquinot? 

Pasquinot.     Something's  lacking  now 

Bergamin.  The  idea!  (After  a  moment's  re- 
flection) Yes,  I  agree  with  you.  Funny — are  you 
losing  your  sense  of  the  romantic?  (He  looks  at 
Pasquinot  and  says,  aside)  His  waistcoat  often 
lacks  a  button!  It's  disgusting!  (He  rises  and 
zvalks  back  and  forth) 

Pasquinot.  (Looking  over  his  paper — aside) 
He  looks  like  some  immense  beetle.  (He  pretends 
to  be  reading  as  Bergamin  passes  him) 

Bergamin.  (Aside)  See  the  ridiculous  way  he 
reads!     (He  whistles  as  he  walks  azvay  tip-stage) 

Pasquinot.  (Aside)  Whistling!  Oh,  Heavens! 
Don't  do  that,  whistling  makes  me  nervous. 


THE  ROMANCERS  25 

Bergamin.  (With  a  smile)  Remember  the 
mote  in  your  neighbor's  eye.  You,  too,  get  on 
my  nerves  sometimes. 

Pasquinot.     I  ? 

Bergamin.  You  tell  the  same  story  twenty 
times  a  day. 

Pasquinot.    Why,  I 

Bergamin.  And  when  you  sit  down  you  swing 
your  foot  like  a  pendulum.  At  meals  you  roll  your 
bread  in  a  most  disgusting  manner. 

Pasquinot.  Ha,  you  take  me  to  task  for  my 
irritating  mannerisms !  But  let  me  tell  you,  you 
are  no  less  unpleasant.  You  are  ridiculous  and 
thoroughly  selfish.  I  know  now  what  the  trouble 
is :  the  wall — with  it,  we  were  happy,  now  we  don't 
live  at  all. 

Bergamin.  We  didn't  do  this  for  ourselves,  did 
we? 

Pasquinot.    No,  we  did  not! 

Bergamin.     It  was  for  our  children. 

Pasquinot.  For  our  children,  yes.  Let  us 
therefore  suffer  in  silence,  and  regret  our  former 
liberty. 

Bergamin.    Sacrifice  is  the  lot  of  parents. 

(Sylvette  and  Percinet  appear  at  the  left,  up- 
stage, arm  m  arm.) 

Paquinot.     Sh — the  lovers! 

Bergamin.  (Looking  at  them)  See  them! 
How  they  love  each  other !  Like  the  old  pilgrims 
of  love,  they  return  each  day  to  the  sacred  spot. 

(The  lovers,  who  have  meantime  disappeared,  re- 
appear on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stage,  and 
come  down  toward  the  old  men.) 

Paquinot.     If  they  are  talking  as  they  usually 


26  THE  ROMANCERS 

do,  their  conversation  will  be  well  worth  listening 
to! 

(Bergamin  and  Pasquinot  retire  behind  a  tree.) 

XynoiM^   IN) 

Percinet.     I  love  you. 

Sylvette.  I  love  you.  (Tkey  stop)  Here  is 
the  famous  spot. 

Percinet.  Yes.  He  fell  here,  that  big  fellow, 
pierced  to  the  heart. 

Sylvette.     There  was  I,  like  Andromeda. 

Percinet.     And  I  was  Perseus ! 

Sylvette.     How  many  v/ere  there  against  you? 

Percinet.    Ten ! 

Sylvette.  Oh,  there  were  twenty  at  least,  not 
coimting  the  big  leader. 

Percinet.     Or  thirty — there  must  have  been! 

Sylvette.  Tell  mc  once  more  how  it  was  ac- 
complished ? 

Percinet.     They  fell — like  cards  in  a  row^ ! 

Sylvette.    Our  story  should  be  put  into  a  poem ! 

Percinet.    It  shall  be. 

Sylvette.     How  I  love  you ! 

Percinet.    I  adore  you! 

Sylvette.  A  realized  dream.  How  my  heart 
beat !  I  would  never  think  of  marrying  a  common- 
place little  husband  picked  out  by  my  father ! 

Percinet.    Indeed  ? 

Sylvette.  No,  no,  not  the  way  husbands  are 
usually  given  to  young  girls. 

Percinet.  No,  you  would  never  have  thought 
of  marrying  the  son  of  your  father's  best  friend. 

Sylvette.  (Laughing)  Indeed  not.  Have  you 
noticed  how  our  fathers  have  lately — ? 

Percinet.     Yes,  like  two  dogs. 

Bergamin.     (Aside)     Hm ! 

Percinet.  And  I  know  the  reason  why.  This 
new   arrangement   is   not  the  best  thing   for  their 


THE  ROMANCERS  27 

property.  Our  fathers  are  very  good  people,  you 
know,  but  they  haven't  much  soul,  and  our  brilliant 
adventure  rather  throws  them  into  the  shade 

Pasquinot.     (Aside)     How's  that? 

Sylvette.  You  see,  they  are  fathers  of  cele- 
brated lovers.  Poor  fathers,  how  they  have  been 
deceived ! 

Pasquinot.     (Aside)     Ha,  ha! 

Percinet.     Yes,  Fate  has  been  with  us ! 

Bergamin.     (Aside)     Ha,  ha! 

Sylvette.  And  to-night  the  marriage-contract 
is  to  be  signed ! 

Percinet.    I  must  have  musicians. 

Sylvette.    Then  go  quick. 

Percinet.     I  fly! 

Sylvette.  (Calling  him  back)  Fll  take  you  as 
far  as  the  gate.  (They  go  upstage,  arm  in  ami) 
We  are  at  least  as  great  as  the  most  celebrated 
lovers. 

Percinet.  We  shall  take  ou:-p!r.:3  with  Romeo 
and  Juliet ! 

Sylvette.    Aminta  and  her  shepherd. 

Percinet.     Pyramus  and  Thisbe. 

Sylvette.  And  so  many  others!  (They  disaf^- 
pear,  hut  their  voices  are  heard  outside) 

Voice  of  Percinet.     Francesca  and  Paolo.^.. 

Voice  of  Sylvette.    Petrarch  and  Laura. 

(Bergamin  and  Pasquinot  emerge.) 

Pasquinot.  See  how  well  your  plan  has  suc- 
ceeded !  Our  children  are  quite  mad,  thanks  to 
you! 

Bergamin.  Your  daughter,  with  her  famous 
abduction,  is  most  aggravating. 

Pasquinot.  Your  son  thinks  he  is  a  hero.  He 
gets  on  my  nerves. 

Bergamin.     But  the  worst  of  it  all  is  that  they 


28  THE  ROMANCERS 

think  we  are  two  idiotic  old  fools  whom  they  have  r 
deceived.     I  don't  like  it  at  all. 

Pasquinot.     Why  didn't  you  think  of  it  before,  ' 
wise  man?    Fm  going  to  tell  them  everything. 

Bergamin.  No,  please  don't  do  that— at  least 
not  until  after  the  signing  of  the  contract.  Let  us 
not  say  a  word  until  then. 

Pasquinot.  Very  well.  But  meantime,  here  v/e 
are  caught  in  the  net  of  your  own  making. 

Bergamin.  But  my  dear  friend,  you  admired  the 
plan ! 

Pasquinot.     A  fine  plan,  in  truth!      ^       tA.,^.^ 

(Sylvette  enters  gaily,  zvith  flowers  in  her  hand. 
She  zvaves  to  Percinet  in  the  distance,  then 
comes  dozvn-stage.) 

Sylvette.  Good-day,  Papa.  Good-day,  Father- 
in-law  to-be ! 

Bergamin.     Good-day,  daughter-in-law  to-be  ! 

Sylvette.  My,  my,  what  a  bad  humor  you  are 
in! 

Bergamin.     It's   Pasquinot's   fault — he — he 

Sylvette.  (Waving  her  flozvers  in  Bfrgamin's 
face)  Sh!  Please  don't  quarrel.  Of  course,  I 
understand,  you  can't  behave  quite  as  old  friends, 
and  you  like  to  quarrel  a  little,  in  a  friendly  way 

Bergamin.    Of  course,  our  hatred  was  so  great ! 

Sylvette.  A  mortal  hatred,  too !  When  I  think 
.55vhat' you've  said  about  Papa — oh,  dear!  I  used 
tp  sit  by  the  wall  and  hear  every  word !  And  to 
think  you  never  once  suspected  that  I  came  there 
to  meet  Percinet 

Pasquinot.     (Ironically)     Ah,  I- 


Sylvette.  We  came  every  day  at  the  same 
hour.  (To  Bergamin)  Ha,  ha,  I  can  still  hear 
Percinet  telling  you  that  he  was  going  to  marry — 
"  most  romantically  " !    And  he  kept  his  word ! 


THE  ROMANCERS  43 

sieur  Vagabond,  all  this  while? 

Percinet.  Nothing  very  creditable,  Sylvette. 
{He  coughs) 

Sylvette.    You  are  coughing? 

Percinet.    Walking  the  damp  roads  at  night. 

Sylvette.     What  strange  clothes  you  have! 

Percinet.  Mine  were  stolen,  and  the  thieves 
left  me  these. 

Sylvette.  {Ironically)  How  many  fortunes  did 
you  find? 

Percinet.  Sylvette,  please  say  nothing  about 
that. 

Sylvette.  You  must  have  scaled  many  a 
balcony  ? 

Percinet.  {Aside)  I  nearly  broke  my  neck 
once! 

Sylvette.  Guitar  in  hand !  And  what  nocturnes 
and  serenades  you  must  have  sung ! 

Percinet.  Which  earned  for  me  more  than  one 
bucket  of  water! 

Sylvette.  But  I  see  you  have  been  wounded  in 
4a  real  duel? 

Percinet.    It  came  near  being  mortal. 

Sylvette.    And  now  you  return  to  us — ? 

Percinet.    Thoroughly  worn-out. 

Sylvette.  Yes,  but  you  have  at  least  found 
romance  and  poetry? 

Percinet.  No — I  was  seeking  afar  what  was 
here  all  the  time.  Don't  make  fun  of  me :  I  adore 
you! 

Sylvette.    Even  after  our  disillusion? 

Percinet.    What  difference  does  that  make  ? 

Sylvette.  But  our  fathers  played  an  abomin- 
able trick  on  us. 

Percinet.  What  of  it?  What  I  feel  in  my 
heart  is  real. 

Sylvette.     They  pretended  to  hate  each  other, 

Percinet.    Did  we  pretend  that  we  loved  ? 


^4  THE  ROMANCERS 

Sylvette.  The  wall  was  a  punch-and-judy 
theater — you  said  so  yourself. 

Percinet.  I  did,  Sylvette,  but  it  was  blasphemy. 
Ah,  wall,  you  gave  us  a  divine  setting,  with  moon- 
light and  stars,  flowers  and  vines,  the  four  winds  for 
music,  and  Shakespeare  for  prompter!  Yes,  our 
fathers  made  us  go  through  the  motions,  but  it  was 
Love  that  made  us  speak :  it  pulled  the  strings ! 

Sylvette.  (Sighing)  That's  true,  but  we  loved 
because  we  believed  it  was  wicked! 

Percinet.  And  it  was !  Only  the  intention 
counts,  and  thinking  we  were  guilty,  we  were! 

Sylvette.     Really  ? 

Percinet.  Really,  my  dear,  we  were  infamous. 
It  was  wrong  of  us  to  love. 

Sylvette.  (Seating  herself  beside  him)  Very 
wrong?  (She  changes  her  tone,  as  she  rises  and 
goes  away)  Still,  I  wish  the  danger  had  been  a 
little  more  real. 

Percinet.    It  zvas  real,  because  we  believed  it  so. 

Sylvette.  No:  my  abduction,  like  your  duel, 
was  false. 

Percinet.  Was  your  fear  false?  If  you  were 
afraid  then,  it  was  as  if  you  were  really  being 
abducted. 

Sylvette.  No,  the  dear  remembrance  is  gone. 
All  those  masks  and  torches,  the  soft  music,  the 
duel ;  it  is  too  cruel  to  think  that  Straf orel  prepared 
it  all. 

Percinet.  But  who  prepared  the  spring  night? 
Was  that  Straforel?  Did  he  also  sprinkle  the  sky 
with  stars?  Did  he  plant  roses,  did  he  create  the 
gray  of  evening  and  the  blue  mists  of  night?  Did 
he  have  anything  to  do  with  the  rising  of  that  huge 
pink  star? 

Sylvette.     No,  of  course 

Percinet.  Was  it  his  doing  that  we  were  two 
children  of  twenty,  on  a  spring  night,  and  that  we 


THE  ROMANCERS  45 

loved  each  other  ?  We  loved,  that  was  the  charm — 
all  the  charm ! 

Sylvette.     All  the — ?     That's  true,  yet 

Percinet.    a  tear?    Am  I  then — forgiven? 

Sylvette.  I  have  always  loved  you,  my  poor 
dear. 

Percinet.  At  last  I  have  you  again !  {He  takes 
Sylvette's  scarf  and  plays  zvith  it)  What  beauti- 
ful shades  and  lights  in  this  gorgeous  satin. 

Sylvette.     What  satin? 

Percinet.    Oh,  nothing!    Nothing! 

Sylvette.    But  it's  only  muslin ! 

Percinet.  (Kneeling  and  kissing  her  hand)  No, 
it  is  everything! 

Sylvette.  (Falling  into  his  arms)  -See-?  I 
know  now  that  poetry  and  romance  are  in  the  hearts 
of  lovers;  they  have  nothing  to  do  with  othef 
things. 

Percinet.  That  is  true,  Sylvette.  I  have  seen 
what  ought  to  be  poetry  and  romance,  but  it  wasn't 

-to  me ! 

Sylvette.  And  what  was  prepared  for  and  ar- 
ranged beforehand  was  real,  though  it  was  con- 
trived for  us  by  others. 

Percinet.  We  can  weave  realities  on  a  false 
frame. 

Sylvette.  How  foolish  we  were  to  seek  else- 
where for  romance,  when  it  was  our  own  hearts ! 

(Straforel  appears,  followed  by  the  two  fathers, 
and  shows  them  Sylvette  and  Percinet  in 
each  other's  arms.)  .  vyuty^v^^"^  ^   "- 

Straforel.  Ah! 

Bergamin.  My  son!     (He  embraces  Percinet) 

Straforel.  Now  do  I  get  my  money  ? 

Paquinot.  (To  his  daughter)     Do  you  love 

him?  --jg^^fV^  \)irM>^-'^5^»^ 


46  THE  ROMANCERS 

Sylvette.     Yes. 

Straforel.  (To  Bergamin)  Shall  I  have  my 
money  ? 

Bergamin.     You  shall. 

Sylvette.  {Tremhlng  as  she  hears  Straforel'§ 
voice  and  recognises  it)  But — that — voice — ^the 
Marquis  D'Asta — fior 

Straforel.  {Bowing) — quercita.  Yes,  my  dear 
Mademoiselle.  Tis  Straforel.  Pardon  my  ex- 
cessive zeal.  I  have  at  least  taught  you  how  tire- 
some and  hollow  and  useless  real  adventures  are. 
You  might,  like  this  young  man,  have  had  your 
share,  but  I  allow^ed  you  to  see  them  in  prospect 
through  the  magic-lantern  of  my  imagination. 

Percinet.    What  is  this? 

Sylvette.  {Quickly)  Nothing,  nothing.  I  love 
you! 

Bergamin.  {Pointing  to  the  wall)  And  to- 
morrow we  shall  knock  down  these  few  rows  of 
bricks ! 

Pasquinot.     Yes,  away  with  it! 

Straforel.  No,  let  us  finish  it;  it  is  indis- 
pensable. 

Sylvette.  {Gathering  them  all  about  her)  Let 
us  say  no  more  about  it! 

Curtain 


THE  WORLD^S  BEST  PLAYS 

BY  CELEBRATED  EUROPEAN  AUTHORS 


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USE     OF     SCHOOLS,     COLLEGES,     AND 
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BARRETT  H.  CLARK 
General  Editor 

Author  of  "  The  Continental  Drama  of  To-day,"  "  Contempo- 
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